Situated so, she read the
telegram, and then the old arms gripped her tighter.
Presently, the whistle of a train sounded. The aunt stretched out an
approving finger to the sound. She realized that the figure round which
her arms hung trembled, for it was the "through" daily train for
Montreal.
"I'm going back at once, aunty," Junia said.
..........................
"Well, I'm jiggered!"
These were Tarboe's words when Carnac's candidature came first to him in
the press.
"He's 'broke' out in a new place," he added.
Tarboe loved the spectacular, and this was indeed spectacular. Yet he had
not the mental vision of Junia who saw how close, in one intimate sense,
was the relation between the artist life and the political life. To him
it was a gigantic break from a green pasture into a red field of war. To
her, it was a resolution which, in anyone else's life, would have seemed
abnormal; in Carnac's life it had naturalness.
Tarboe had been for a few months only the reputed owner of the great
business, and he had paid a big price for his headship in the weighty
responsibility, the strain of control; but it had got into his blood, and
he felt life would not be easy without it now.
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